


The First Touch

by ruric



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Icon drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-02
Updated: 2006-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:25:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruric/pseuds/ruric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble based on this icon <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ruric/7942275056/"><img/></a> requested by <a href="blueswan9.livejournal.com/">blueswan9</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Touch

Lindsey never liked Winters. There was something old, cold and so very alien in Russell Winters eyes that showed he thought all humans were prey, good only for their entertainment value or food.

So his heart doesn’t exactly bleed when the chair’s propelled backwards and glass shatters; rather he feels a grim sense of satisfaction hearing Winter’s howl and he hopes to God it hurts the fucker as he plummets down to burst into flames.

But he’d worked hard to get the account and having a new player kill his top client isn’t going to look good on his record. Can’t help but admire the cajones on the guy who’d walk in and do that and he feels his dick twitch when Angel plucks the card from his fingers.

Solemn brown eyes meet and hold his, old and different, but those eyes have more warmth, more life, than he’d ever seen in Winters’ gaze. A whisper of air brushes across his cheek as Angel leans in close and Lindsey can smell him. Angel doesn’t smell like a vampire, not the old ones. There’s nothing musty and dead about his scent, it’s sharp and bright and strong and it makes Lindsey’s mouth water.

Softly voice threats won’t work on this one. 

The card is tucked back into his pocket and there’s a promise in the words spoken into his ear. A promise echoed in the fingertips that linger a little too long, a promise in the press of a palm over his chest feeling for a heartbeat.

The only thing left for Lindsey to work out is whether that promise is for pleasure or pain.


End file.
